Page 112 of Riot's Thorn
“I wish I could say I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, but I have to kiss you.” He cups my face. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
“It hasn’t been so long that you forgot I like a little pain, has it?”
He crashes his lips to mine, and shit, it really does hurt, but it’s also the best feeling in the world. He’s here, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the chance to kiss him again. My split lip reopens, and the coppery taste of blood swirls around our joined tongues, but I don’t pull away. I know Riot feels a sense of intimacy when he gets a part of me no one else would want, like my blood.
He cherishes the forsaken because he himself feels forsaken.
He gives me one final kiss before resting his forehead on mine. “I need you safe. Let’s get out of here.”
“I love you, Riot,” I blurt out. “I know we haven’t known each other a long time, and I’m not expecting you to say it back, but I need you to know.”
His eyes focus over my shoulder, and I know he’s processing this new information. I’m not sure he’s ever felt love for or loved by another person, so my feelings aren’t hurt when he kisses my temple and directs his energy back to getting us the hell out of here. Maybe someday he’ll give me those words, or maybe not. It doesn’t matter to me because he shows me how he feels in his actions. Like risking his life to save me.
“Pretty soon, this place will be swarming with cops. The guard is already bitching into the radio on his shoulder,” he says. “I’m going to lead them away from the gate. When they go to check it out, get out. There’s a parking lot one block east where the guys are waiting for us.”
“No, I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’m not fucking around, Little Thorn. Do it, or we’ll both end up dead or caught.” His tone brooks no argument.
“Riot—”
He grips me by the throat, and his eyes go dark. “Fucking do it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, trusting he knows best.
He runs in the opposite direction of the gate, and thirty seconds later, I smell smoke. Did he start a fire? The guard and workers smell it too. After giving each other questioning looks, they leave the gate to investigate. I hear sirens in the distance and know it’s now or never.
I hold up the too-big sweats as I limp, trying to stay as hidden as possible until the last second. The gate is only feet away, but they must’ve been checking over their shoulder because I hear one of them yell out.
“Stop right there!” one barks.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” another shouts, the threat giving me pause. He wouldn’t really shoot, would he? I think it’d be obvious I’m not the one who shot the dock manager. Maybe they don’t care, though.
I push away the fear and horrible shooting pain in my ankle, forcing my legs to move faster. I’m just outside the gate when I hear apop. Startled, I trip over nothing more than air and fall to the ground. Damn it. Everything hurts, but I don’t have time to inspect the damage or feel sorry for myself. Pushing up on my right knee, I drive my right foot into the ground to stand, but almost immediately, I’m back on the ground. Something is wrong.
The men gain on me as I try to stand again, this time pushing up with my left foot. I make it to my feet, but when I put pressure on my right foot, I collapse. The back of my leg feels hot, and after a quick inspection, I know why. I’ve been shot.
No, no, no.
A sob hits me in the chest, making me feel so fucking defeated. Everyone has a breaking point, and apparently, this is mine. It’s okay, though. If they’re busy with me, then Riot can get away. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I’ll never give the Sons up, so all they’ll get from me is how I was taken by Bart.
I’ve accepted my fate when there’s an explosion like you see on TV. A huge black cloud billows from a hundred feet out, and it’s so intense, I feel the heat surround me like a wall. But the men are just close enough to where the blast wave knocks them off their feet.
Did Riot do that? Oh, god. Is he okay?
I get the answer seconds later when a dark figure comes sprinting right for me. He scoops me into his arms, not worrying when I cry out. There’s no time for that because the men are back on their feet and heading for us. I knew Riot was strong, but how he manages to run this fast while carrying me, I’ll never know.
“Hold on. Almost there,” he pants.
Anotherpopsounds, and the window of the car we’re passing explodes. I bury my face in Riot’s neck, whimpering from fear, pain, and shock. Thetinkof bullets hitting the cars we pass fills me with so much anxiety, but I can’t think about that. Riot and I have to make it out of this. We still have so much to experience together, and I refuse to think none of that will ever happen.
More gunshots sound, but this time, they’re coming from in front of us. I look up to see Rigger and Lucky firing at the men chasing us. A shout, followed by a thud, tells me at least one of them has been hit.
“Get in,” the young guy says, holding the side door of a van open.
“Take my bike,” Riot shouts, digging in his pocket and tossing him a key. “Don’t fuck her up.”
“Shit,” he curses, obviously not trusting himself.
